


Everything, Everything

by Corellia



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: mentions of past rape/non-con, this does not have a happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:07:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22166116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corellia/pseuds/Corellia
Summary: Waen does not know who his father is.
Kudos: 11





	Everything, Everything

Waen does not know who his father is.

It is common in this stretch of the galaxy, where food is scarce and people even harder to find. Men go off to war and die, leaving widows and fatherless children. Young people leave the planet in search of greater destinies, leaving only those too young or old to bare a child. A passing ship stops at their lone dock and a trisk with a young girl results in a heartbreak. At six years old, Waen can count on both hands the number children who have fathers, and finds that the children who don’t rarely miss out. In his small village, everyone helps each other, and a father to one becomes a father to all the younglings whose childhoods are fraught with hunger and the vague understanding the galaxy is cruel to poor people like them. Besides, it his mother who kisses his scrapes and yanks his ear when he gets too silly. She is all he wants and all he needs in this world.

Waen is six years old and he has found a single flower. It’s in the process of dying and it’s dull yellow color might have been a bright hue once but it is better than anything he has found before. He is lucky to have ventured out alone today at dawn, and has avoided having to fight with other children over who deserved to bring it home. He plucks it from the dry earth and prides himself in finding the perfect gift for his mother. Today is her birthday. He delicately slips it into the small rucksack that once belonged to his uncle (one of those young people who left the colony to find his own way in life, only to be murdered on some distant planet all alone for what little money he had) and makes the journey home.

His village consists of a two dozen or so small huts on the outskirts of the landing dock. If they are lucky, one or two ships will land there each month to trade or bring men who help with their small harvest in exchange for a wife. Generations of families squeeze inside the homes, but now it’s just Mother and him, as Grandmother and Grandfather and Uncle Sim are all dead. They used to all pile into one makeshift bed of old cloth and threadbare pillows bartered from traveling craftsmans. Waen relishes the extra room as he grows but misses the sound of Grandfathers snoring, Grandmothers tossing and turning and Uncle Sim, who never seemed to sleep, scribbling in his journal with what little light came from the fire.

Waen is so busy thinking about how happy Mother will be to have a flower to decorate their bare hut he almost doesn’t notice the lack of people in the village center. There is almost always someone out trading produce, women calling out windows to their children, people gathered talking and drinking smelly caf that mother says he’s too young for. As Waen makes his way to his home, he looks around at the barren square and feels something lurch in the pit of his stomach. For the first time in his life he feels like he is utterly alone.

He runs the rest of the way home, bare feet pounding the earth, to the hut farthest from the landing pad, and bursts through his front door.

“Mother, I found you a-“

He stops short.

There is a man sitting in what was once Grandfathers chair. He is wearing a dark robe that hides his face but Waen thinks he can see yellow eyes peering at him from under the hood. He tries to take a step back but finds himself unable to move his feet.

“Mother?”

“Hello, Waen,” she says in a shaky voice. She is sitting next to the man and looks like she has been crying. Mother doesn’t cry. Not even when she heard the news of her brother’s murder, not even when last year’s harvest failed and they had to sell Grandmother’s family heirlooms for food. She stands and quickly wipes her face with the corner of her sleeve,”I didnt expect you back yet.”

She walks over to kneel next to him, pushing his hair behind his ear. His eyes have not left the man, who has turned in his chair to face them. Light from the window illuminates a toothy grin.

He looks old, older than even Grandfather was when he died. Gnarled hands stick out from his black sleeves and rest gracefully in his lap. He holds himself like the occasional Empire officials that stop on the planet for wellness checks, boasting importance while feigning concern. 

“I brought you a birthday gift.” He suddenly feels shy under the stranger’s intense gaze and hesitates as he reaches into his rucksack to pull out the wilting flower. He doesn’t want the man to see. It’s just for Mother and him.   


Mother gives him a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. She tucks the flower behind her ear and gives him a gentle kiss on the cheek. Waen can feel her lips quiver.

“What a lovely present. What a resourceful little scavenger you are.”

Waen flinches when the man speaks, his voice like a rock dragging against rusted metal. He grips Mother’s coarse skirt in his hand, silently begging for her to solve this. 

“Say thank you,” his mother whispers in his ear, placing a comforting hand on his back.

“T-thank you.”

“Come closer so I can see you in the light.” The old man waves a hand, beckoning him. Waen wants to run but he finds his feet sliding across the floor without his control, like he is gliding down the barren hills outside the village on scraps of old ship doors with his friends, laughing when they fall off. Except now he is not laughing; in fact, he is trying not to scream. He is pulled closer and closer until he and the man are inches apart. 

“Look at me.”

Waen’s chin jerks up, again without his control, and he gasps.

The old man looks like a monster put of a tale Uncle Sim used to tell him to try and frighten him. A face of pale white skin is almost translucent, wrinkled and warped like a sun-dried piece of leather. Eyes bright yellow like Mother’s flower might have been if Waen had picked it a week earlier stare unblinking. Waen has never been more scared and he can’t look away. He feels as though two invisible hands are holding his head in an iron grip, forcing him to look into the eyes of this horrific stranger. 

It feels like a million years the man stares at him until he sighs, looking...disappointed. Suddenly Waen feels whatever was holding him in place let go and he drops to the dirt floor. Mother cries his name and runs to him, gathering him in her arms. He wraps his thin arms around her and buries his face in the folds of her faded shawl. 

“You were right,” the old man says with disinterest,”He is nothing.” 

“Please,” his mother whispers, holding Waen impossibly closer,”leave us be now. He doesn’t have it.”

The old man pauses for a moment. 

“My offer still stands, for a lesser price. He canundergo training from my generals, make something of himself-“

“No.” Mother shakes her head.”No, he stays with me. He is _my_ son.” 

That seems to strike a nerve in the old man. A scowl crawls across his face and he points a twisted finger at Mother. Waen wants to bite it off.

“Just remember, girl, who gave you that boy.” 

And then as quickly as Waen can blink, the old man is gone. Grandfather’s chair looks like no one had ever sat there, a thin layer of dust still on the seat. 

And although he is a big boy of six years old, he bursts into tears. His chest heaves with them and he buries his fists in Mother’s soft brown hair, crushing her birthday flower. He doesn’t even care; that man wanted to take him away from the only person he had left in the world. 

Mother squeezes him tightly.

“Oh, my boy, no tears. You are safe. You will always be safe with me.”

They sit on the dirt floor for what seems like hours, until the sun starts to fade and the hut begins to fill with darkness. Waen feels a pang of hunger in his gut, and pulls away from Mother to wipe his eyes. He remembers something. 

“Mother, did you really say I was nothing?”

“Oh, Waen.” Mother kisses the top of his head. “Sometimes the best thing in the world is to be nothing.”

**Author's Note:**

> listen I saw tros and Palpatine randomly having a kid threw me for a fucking loop so this is my theory/way of making sense of who reys parents are and what happened there


End file.
